Thrust Of My Blade


The first time was swift and simple. I had not even moved, and it was over. The weight of him slumping over me; his last words thanking me, for saving his pride, for letting him be with his love forever, for ending his life. His final breath leaving his blood-stained lips. The guilt of his death staining my fingers for the rest of eternity, never to be washed away.

The second time was almost identical to the first. The sword piercing clean through, the dried blood on my fingers. His weight, similar to the one before, heaving over me. And he thanked me, for letting him save his family. But, soon, I realised that I had already killed him, already sealed his destiny. Just like before. It would be the same as before. That one, strong and full of passion and life, would die at my sword. At one thrust of my blade. Because it was my blade.

But I was wrong. This one was different.

This one stood up.


Author's Note: Because drabbling is cool. For Jasmine. This is intended to be continued. ;)